


fragments

by oldgoldcrown



Category: Hooky (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Swearing, Underage Drinking, it varies per drabble, one of them, the rating is for underaged drinking these are pretty tame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldgoldcrown/pseuds/oldgoldcrown
Summary: falling in love doesn’t always happen in the large steps, but in the small moments that get stuck in your heada collection of short(ish) drabbles for each of the hooky ships





	1. buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hooky tag is so dead but im back with some short drabbles!! i love all these stupid kids a lot so please enjoy!!
> 
> damien/will, pre-canon  
> maybe like 16/13?? somewhere around then
> 
> summary: ball preparation leads to some very confusing moments for damien coming to terms with his crush on will (that might not be quite as one sided as he thinks, but will is also kinda dumb but we love him still)
> 
> no warnings apply but this is very cheesy but these boys deserve it lmao

Damien stood in utter disbelief. 

Monica’s father had been planning this ball for months. Her mother had been running around for hours to get everything perfect, and it looked like William hadn’t even managed to button his shirt properly. 

Will stood at the end of the hallway, bouncing on his toes while watching guests enter the ballroom. When he felt Damien’s rather accusing glare from the shadows, he turned and gave him his signature brighter than the sun smile. Damien pretended that such a look didn’t shrink him to the core. 

“Damien! Are you excited?” Excited was certainly not the word for it. Rather, Damien would be off once he made sure everything was alright. Bumping elbows with people who hated him was never really his thing. Neither was dancing or stuffy suits, and this somehow managed to combine all three of those things. 

But before he could retort, Will cut the distance between them in a few short strides. Damien didn’t have enough time to think, much less move back before the man invaded his personal space. They stood near chest to chest, and the distance made it so that Damien couldn’t help but think a little ruefully about how much William had grown. He tried not to think about how his head only came up to Will’s nose, or that his shoulders looked delightfully broad—

Damien wanted to mentally slap himself. Repeatedly.  _Not now._ He needed to get out of here, but first things needed to be sorted.

He made a noncommittal noise instead of answering Will’s question. “Your shirt is a mess.”

William looked down, eyes widening comically. “Eh? But I really thought I got it.”

Damien snorted, and his fingers moved on reflex to fix it before he could stop himself. Once he had the first buttons undone and smooth skin was visible, he cursed his (strangely maternal, though he’d never admit it) instincts and felt his face flush.  _Not now_ , he thought as the music from the ballroom pounded in his ears. He tilted his chin lower and prayed that his bangs would obstruct Will’s view enough that he wouldn’t notice and got back to work. 

He tried to focus on the task, he really did. William’s public appearance was a crucial thing, and Damien would be damned if he let the other man’s clumsiness be his downfall. Yet when William started to hum, Damien felt his heart in his throat. His fingers were trembling by the time he finished the task.

“Thanks Damien!” William said with a smile. He clasped a hand onto Damien’s shoulder, the gesture in good graces. “I never quite know how to do them properly,” he added with a laugh. Then, in one fluid motion, he reached back to sheepishly run a hand through his bangs. It was a rather adorable gesture from Damien’s perspective, but the final product was something else. 

_Oh, for fucks sake_ _._ William’s hair stood up at odd angles, jutting out awkwardly. Damien’s head tilted and he gave William an unimpressed look. 

At least this time, William seemed to recognize his errors, face paling considerably a mere second after. He went to reach up to fix it (or most likely: accidentally make it worse) when a voice cut him off. 

“Prince William?” A voice called from the ballroom. The sound of it made Damien pale. People would be coming soon, and William looked like an absolute disaster. Already being from another kingdom, William got the blunt end of the noble’s secret criticisms without doing anything wrong. Yet anytime he messed up, it was always worse, and Damien knew that the court would eat it up and spit Will out for this sort of a thing. 

So, Damien sucked in a breath and raised himself to his tippy toes, reaching up and dragging his fingers through Will’s hair. 

It was surprisingly stubborn, and Damien leaned in to get a better angle. Two hands found themselves on his hips to steady him, and Damien felt his entire world narrowing down as he made eye contact. 

William’s face was inches away, large green eyes blinking innocently back at him. His nose was within brushing distance, and his lips were turned up in that ever easygoing expression. And his hands, he could feel their warmth seeping in as Will tightened his grip ever so slightly, pulling him just a little bit closer and—

All at once it was far too much. Damien was, after all, still coming to terms with the fact that his heart beat really really fast around his best friend. He pulled back from Will too quickly, which resulted in his heel slipping on the cool tile. His heart was in his throat as he lost his balance backwards. 

William’s hands on his hips slipped to Damien’s lower back to try to accommodate and keep him upright. However, it was William attempting to help, and his near curse like clumsiness resulted in him slipping too, rather than catching him.

Damien’s back hit the tile with a thud, the breath only being further knocked out of him when a large (and admittedly heavy) body fell on top of him. Through the pounding of his chest he picked up the thud of footsteps and the sounds of more voices closing in. 

William groaned, and all at once the weight was lifted from Damien. When he blinked up, he saw William’s face mere inches above his, backlit by the chandeliers. It looked like a halo on him, the light colouring the tips of his hair a radiant gold. Damien sucked in a breath as William pursed his lips. 

“I’m sorry Dame,” he said a little sheepishly, his head tilting with a slight laugh. He shifted his position, and only then did occur to Damien that William’s hands were on either side of his head and one of his knees was between his legs, and Damien thought he was absolutely going to  _die_ . “Are you—“

“Your Royal Highness!” A shrill voice called out, breaking Damien from his spell. William shot up and a maid was at his side in a flash, helping him up and dusting him off. Damien thought he saw Monica and her mother from the corner of his eye. Monica was half hidden behind her mother’s skirt, tugging on it with a giggle. The Queen’s hand was raised to her lips and her eyebrows were drawn up in sympathy, but she was hiding a rather knowing look behind her glove. Monica slipped past her mother’s gown and the servants with a laugh. 

A butler hauled Damien up like he weighed nothing at all, giving him a quick check over for injuries. There were none visible, only some sore spots he was sure might turn an ugly shade of purple, and perhaps his pride. There was too an ache in his heart from the proximity, but he tried desperately to ignore it.

Monica closed in on William’s side, poking his cheek. “You goof! You nearly flattened poor Damien!”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to, and look! He’s all fine!” William said back to her, letting her catch his arm. Damien watched with his heart still pounding as she dragged him off to the dance floor. Just before he pulled his gaze away from their retreating backs, William turned his head over his shoulder. 

And he winked. 

Damien felt his heart stop and his facepositively burn up. He wondered just how he’d gotten simultaneously so unlucky and lucky in knowing this man. 

A familiar chuckle caught his attention. He turned to see Monica’s mother at his side, smiling as she sent off the still buzzing servants. She ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down. Her eyes told Damien that she knew far too much, and he wondered if her mother’s intuition somehow included him in it too. 

“Are you alright dear? That was a rather nasty fall,” she asked, ever a beacon of kindness. Damien simply nodded, a little embarrassed over the mothering. 

“I’m alright. Don’t worry about me, Your Majesty.”

“Do you want to join the party?” She asked. Damien shook his head, nose scrunching at the thought of sharing space with all those pesky noblemen. Quite frankly, he might rather die. 

But he didn’t word it like that. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

She shrugged with a smile, leaning in to wipe away something on his cheek. “You’re always welcome if you ever change your mind. I know Will would love to have you there,” she said, pausing slightly before she continued. “Monica keeps asking if we invite you.”

The fact that she paused between the two clauses definitely proved that she knew far, far too much. He looked up at her with round eyes, and she simply chuckled fondly as she pulled away from him. 

“Goodnight dear.”

Once she made her way into the ball, Damien turned on heel and walked away from the dance floor, and away from the source of all his mushed up, confusing feelings. Away from the source with broad shoulders and an easygoing smile and pretty eyes.

—

The next day, when Damien saw Will, his hair was sticking up in every which direction again. Damien swore under his breath and wondered just how absent minded the man was. All he could hope was that he wouldn’t wind up with any bruises this time. 

(Little did he know that William had messed his hair up in the mirror just before seeing Damien. He’d rather curiously found his heart hammering at the feeling of Damien pressed up flush under him, yet he didn’t know wholly why. He just wanted to feel it again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you bet monica’s mum was up on all the royal drama. she was really rooting for damien all along. when monica told them she didn’t want to marry will she internally cheered because her adopted goth son could shoot his shot. send tweet.


	2. books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> monica/dorian, early canon 
> 
> summary: monica finds dorian’s journal and after a little snooping, an argument breaks out on quite possibly the most important topic of all: the sanctity of mermaids 
> 
> no warnings apply but it’s early hooky so like the claws are OUT

The sun streamed in from the window, casting the room in a spectrum of pale oranges and pinks. The sight of light touching everything made Monica’s heart skip, and never mind the fact that she was still getting used to the Master’s home and witchcraft, in moments like this she thought she could really come to like this place. 

It was rather quaint and a little small though. A nice summer home, she mused. She’d get too easily bored all year round. 

(Never mind the fact that there always seemed to be something new and magical— but magical also meant a little bit creepy. Bored might be better than nervous, in her not-so-very-humble-at-all opinion.)

She was the first one downstairs, having woken up early and rather fitfully being unable to fall back asleep. She was almost glad for it though, as she watched the rest of the sunrise pool through the room. She followed its edge as it was chased out of the room, until her eyes landed on a book. 

It sat on the table where it definitely didn’t belong, and Monica’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.  _Well well, what do we have here? A mystery book_ , she thought a little dreamily. 

There was so many possibilities. Perhaps a secret log of magic from evil witches? A daring tale of romance? A new catalogue of dresses? All seemed like good options to her as she scurried over. 

When it was finally in her hands though, her face fell. She almost immediately put it down on instinct alone, her nose scrunching. 

Of course, Dorian would leave out his stupid magical journal. It felt wrong— almost grimy, if her fingers didn’t betray her— in her hands, like she was doing something naughty. A burning little voice in the back of her head told her magic was bad and this book was terrifying. 

Then, another little voice told her that last time Dorian had it he’d shown her pictures of fairies. 

She flipped it open, skimming over the gross looking pages. Her heart soared as she saw the fairies again, eyes widening at the adorable Pegasus, and kept flipping until—

_What._

Monica looked at the page in utter disbelief. The caption  read mermaid, but the creature on the page simply couldn’t be. It was grey and lanky and ugly. It wasn’t the silken haired maidens she’d seen in all her storybooks.

“What the—“

She was cut off by a thumping behind her, and she threw the book onto the table with a muffled shriek. She whipped around with murder in her eyes, clutching her hands at her chest. When Monica saw that it was Dorian who had made the sound, clutching his knee with a wince, she felt a sliver of guilt rise up. 

How long had he been there for? It was his book after all, and she’d snooped in it, but really, he’d been asking for it by leaving it out there. Or at least, that was how she tried to reason with herself as she attempted to sneakily close it up behind her. 

Smooth, Monica. 

“Oh, ouch,” Dorian muttered with a wince, looking up to make eye contact right as she pushed the journal behind her back. His eyes followed it in curiosity, and he raised a single eyebrow, “Is that my journal?”

“What? No— why would I even want to, I mean—“

Dorian pushed past her, smiling down at the book. “Oh, it is! That’s wonderful, I thought I’d lost it! That would be so hard to replace you know; I put so much—“ He paused, realizing the situation fully. “Were you looking at it?”

“No. Maybe,” Monica said, adverting eye contact. When his gaze finally caught hers, she found herself looking into large and far too puppy dog like eyes. She cursed herself internally. “Yes, but only because you left it out on the table!”

She wasn’t expecting the smile that lit up his face. He looked rather proud, more than anything. She blinked at it, fighting to keep her expression stern at the softness of it. “Isn’t it neat? I’ve been working on it for years. Did you learn something?”

Oh, she’d learned something. Monica crossed her arms over her chest. “I learned you know nothing about mermaids.”

“Huh?” Dorian asked, a confused look crossing his features. He picked up the book and flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He held it up to her nose for her to see. “There’s the page right here. I’ve actually done quite a bit of—“

“But that’s wrong!” Monica cut him off.

Dorian put the book down between them, eyes narrowed. “I’ve never actually seen one, but all the books I’d looked at described them to be like that. They’re rather nasty creatures—“

Monica’s lips formed a pout and she pressed a palm to her forehead. Must she explain everything? “But that’s not how they’re supposed to be, Dorian! Haven’t you ever read a fairytale? A tale so full of wonder and awe?”

“Um, I’ve read spell books? All of them at my house, in fact, the servants had to get—“

“That doesn’t count, frog kid. I’m talking about the real deal, with princes and princesses and magical creatures who are supposed to be cute and friendly!” Monica exclaimed as she pointed to the mermaid in Dorian’s journal. “This is not cute and friendly! Not beautiful with silken hair and a seashell bra!”

“It’s the truth, though. Besides, how would a seashell—“

“I think your book is wrong.”

Dorian’s eyebrow raised. He could take a lot, sure, but insulting facts was another thing. “ _You’re_ the one who is wrong.”

Monica stood up with a huff, crossing her arms and enjoying the slight bit of height she had over him.  _Take that, stupid frog kid._

“ _You’re_ wrong to think you can talk to me like that. Besides, I don’t want to talk to losers like you anymore,” she said with a huff, gathering up her things in her arms and quickly turning on her heel. 

She felt so silly, so humiliated in thinking that she could talk with him like this, that she had believed in children’s tales. No, he had to crush her dreams like always. 

She made it a couple of steps before Dorian cut her off. 

“Monica, wait!” He cried out, and when his hand closed around her wrist, her cheeks warmed in a way she didn’t want to admit to. A way that wasn’t just from her frustrations. 

_ Does he want to apologize to me? After all, he’s in the wrong here, crushing my dreams like that .  Perhaps I’ll give him another chance, he does sound quite desperate.  _

Monica yanked her arm out of Dorian’s grasp and tilted her chin up. She tried her best to look imposing and royal. “Fine, I’ll forgive you this once, so cease your begging.”

Dorian looked stunned. “Begging?” He asked weakly, pulling his hands back to fiddle with his tie. “I just wanted to get my journal back.”

Monica froze, and looked down into her hand. 

_Ah_. 

She must’ve grabbed the book from the tabletop in her hurry to escape. Her eye twitched. 

“Stupid kid! You don’t deserve my forgiveness anyways!” She said, throwing the book into his chest and whipping around so fast he got a rather unwanted face full of hair. 

Stupid kid with his stupid pretentious attitude, and his fancy little outfits, and his adorable puppy eyes, and bright smiles, and creepy magic creatures—

“Maybe they’re nice on the inside?” A voice called out weakly from behind her. She stopped, despite telling herself that she wouldn’t. 

“That’s lame,” she replied without turning back around. 

“It’s better than the opposite, looking all pleasant and pretty but having a horrible personality,” Dorian said, like he was stating simple facts. “Are all princesses that way?”

Monica’s blood  _burned._

“Are all witches bratty little know it alls who insult everyone they see?” It came out with more malice than she had intended. Dorian visibly flinched. Monica’s temper died down at that, and lamely she started up again. “I, uh—“

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Monica pondered that. Normally she’d agree, but something is his posture just looked defeated. “I am sorry though. That was cruel to say, but you really did come at me first!” She said, with an added huff for emphasis.

“I didn’t mean it,” Dorian said, flipping through the pages of his journal. Monica caught a glimpse of a familiar page. The round bird with her apparent likeness stared back at her. She rolled her eyes. 

“Well—“

Before she could finish, Dorian started again, though much quieter. His hand was raised to his lips and his cheeks were rather oddly flushed, and she had to strain herself to hear it. “The very first part might be true, but the second isn’t.”

Huh?

Before she could process that statement fully, Dani’s voice came ringing through the doorway. 

“Dorian? Are you in here?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Dorian called back to her. When she poked her head through the doorway, she gave Monica a cheery wave. Monica gave an enthused one back. She watched as Dani pulled her twin out of the room, Dorian’s words still circling in her head. 

The second part? She though back hard, and his words came back to her. 

_It’s better than the opposite, looking all pleasant and pretty but having a horrible personality. Are all princess that way?_

Monica froze. A heat creeped up her cheeks.

Did he just call her pretty? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these stupid kids and their bickering,, look how far they’ve come! 
> 
> i wrote this in pieces and i didn’t even realize how much monica cut off dorian but honestly accurate adgfsfhfsfhg that girl is a force to be reckoned with and im love her
> 
> mark/aisha and dani/nico will be coming as soon as i finish them up!


End file.
